Changing The Dark
by Cantil
Summary: Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?
1. Chapter 1

**Cantil: Hello all, it's been a while. Sorry about that, but here is a new story for you all to enjoy. Really wanted to write this pairing, but I'm bad at writing intelligent characters like Sherlock, so I sincerely apologize in advance for my poor attempt. Let me know if I got Sherlock's eye color right.**

**Summary: Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?**

**Warnings: OOCNESS, possible language, grammar/spelling issues, male/male relationships, Voldemort/Sherlock pairing, and just bad writing in general. If you are still here, then congratulations.**

**Changing The Dark**

**Chapter 1**

Lord Voldemort sat behind a tidy oak desk in his study, the wood shining brightly. Books littered the walls on shelves, his life collection. Normally the immense amount of books and general quietness of the room would calm him, but not today. No. He was very annoyed at his followers for being late on their report.

Voldemort sighed tiredly as he tapped his fingers against the desk, before he remembered that he had a raid to plan for and he pulled out some parchment and quill. He was just finishing it up when there was a knock on his door.

"Enter." He commanded coldly. _Finally. _He thought.

Two men dressed in all black with white masks on led two, _Muggles? _Into the room and pushed them roughly to their knees in front of his desk. They were bound heavily in rope and were staring at him in what he guessed was horror, but he ignored them and watched his followers intently.

These two followers were new to join his cause and he couldn't be bothered to remember their names. He aptly named them dumb and dumber in his head.

"My Lord." They bowed low and one motioned towards the men on their knees with a sneer. "These Muggles were wandering about the mansion." He stated, like that explained everything. Voldemort said nothing, enjoying the look of pure terror barely hidden by the masks they wore. "S-so we thought-"

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, you didn't think. This mansion is out in the open, meaning that Muggles are expected to walk by every now and again. Or did you think this place was invisible to them?" Voldemort asked with a sneer, smirking when they flinched away.

"Now we have two problems, my friends. We have two Muggles who now know our location, and we have the two buffoons who led them here. Oh my, whatever shall we do?" The two death eaters fell to their knees, begging to be spared of torture. Voldemort glared at them, about to deliver said torture when one of the bound men spoke.

"Um, excuse me sir?" He asked quietly. Voldemort turned towards the voice and glared for the interruption. The man had blonde hair, what looked like brown eyes, was dressed in brown trousers, a tan vest and had various cuts and bruises, most likely from war.

"What?" Voldemort snapped impatiently.

"If you let us go, we promise we wont tell anyone where you live. We'll leave and never come back." Voldemort turned to his followers.

"Leave us." When neither moved, Voldemort sent a wordless Crucio their way. "Now!" They yelped and quickly left the room, the door banging closed behind them.

Voldemort sent a spell at the two Muggles, cutting them free of their bounds. The two looked at where the rope had been in shock. "Sit." He ordered, pointing to the seats in front of his desk. Once seated Voldemort finally looked towards the other Muggle who had been silent this whole time, only to be blown away.

The man was tall, at least six feet and lean, his eyes a sharp and piercing blue, he looked very intelligent with his blue scarf and billowing coat. Voldemort was entranced the second red eyes met blue in a battle for dominance.

"Your names?" Voldemort asked curiously, breathlessly. He forced his eyes away from this enchanting man.

"I'm John Watson." Voldemort nodded, looking towards John before his eyes were once again drawn back to the other man.

"Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. And the address is 221b Baker Street." Sherlock offered with a wink, making Voldemort have to fight down a blush. This Sherlock character was very odd, Voldemort observed.

Voldemort cleared his throat, unable to identify the tightness in his chest. He felt like he was a bloody teenager again and he didn't like it.

"And what were you doing outside the mansion.?" He questioned.

"Oh, we were looking for a man named George Fed. He went missing a few days ago and witnesses saw him wandering outside your mansion on many occasions." John explained carefully, trying not to look accusing, but the mere sight of whatever this thing was in front of him made John suspicious. He didn't look human at all.

"I can assure you I have not seen nor heard that name in my lifetime, and I don't appreaciate being accused of such. Tell me, John was it? What is to stop me from killing you both where you stand and moving on with my day, hm?" Voldemort stood up and brandished his wand threateningly.

John held up his hands placatingly, looking to Sherlock for answers only to find him staring wonderously at the man who just threatened to murder them. "Nothings stopping you, we have nothing to offer but his mind and my medical abilities."

Voldemort stared at them for what seemed like hours before lowering his wand and offering them a glare. He hated to admit it, but something about Sherlock made Voldemort reluctant to kill him, and his curiousity was getting the better of him. He would let them live, for now anyway.

"Yes well I suppose I shall have to take you home then." This night just kept getting weirder by the minute. Sherlock looked like he was going to say something, but John stopped him by elbowing him in the chest. Voldemort narrowed his eyes slightly at the treatment, but said nothing. "Come."

Voldemort assumed that the address that Sherlock had given him was a real one. He walked over to them, grabbed them both gently by the shoulders and apparated them to what he hoped was their home.

John collapsed to the ground dry heaving, and Sherlock swayed slightly before gaining control of himself. "Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot to mention my methods of traveling beforehand." Voldemort wasn't used to apologizing so he hoped it sounded sincere enough to be believable. To tell the truth, their reactions to the apparation made Voldemort have to hide his amusement.

He looked around them curiously, taking in the crowded flat curiously. It was a mess, he noticed various news articles thrown about, empty tea cups, bullet holes in the walls, various test tubes and lab equipment strown about.

"That was interesting." Muttered Sherlock.

"Interesting? It was bloody mental Sherlock. How did you manage to do that anyway, magic?" John said sarcastically, finally questioning all the strange things that happened that night.

"Of course John, don't be daft. How else would he have gotten us here that fast?"

"Oh, sorry, my bad." John rolled his eyes skyward. "Of course magic exists. How stupid of me to think otherwise for all these years."

"That's the spirit." Sherlock said cheerfully, with a smirk. Sherlock then began to pace, Voldemort watching in amusement. "Of course the concept is very interesting, magic seems illogical, impossible, and yet the proof is right here in front of us. Our flat. Hm...I'll need to examine things further." He turned to Voldemort expectantly.

"Will you come back this week at some point?"

Voldemort couldn't find it in him to refuse so he nodded quickly. _Oh, yes._ He thought. _I'll definitely be wanting to see this man again. Sherlock Holmes. _

He soon left the flat with the excuse of dealing with his followers, Sherlock still on his mind the rest of the night. He would later be lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating why he had let those Muggles, men he corrected himself, live.

It didn't make sense. He had never felt this protective or curious about Muggles, but something about them, about Sherlock was different, and it made him want to please him and get to know him more. Voldemort sighed tiredly, and finally slipped off to sleep. A confused frown marring his face.

XXX


	2. Chapter 2

**Cantil: Here you go guys, chapter 2. I'm not quite sure where this story is going, but we'll find out together. **

Summary: **Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?**

**Recap of Chapter 1:**_**"Will you come back this week at some point?"Voldemort couldn't find it in him to refuse so he nodded quickly. **___**Oh, yes.**___** He thought. **___**I'll definitely be wanting to see this man again. Sherlock Holmes. **___**He soon left the flat with the excuse of dealing with his followers, Sherlock still on his mind the rest of the night. He would later be lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating why he had let those Muggles, men he corrected himself, live.**_

_**It didn't make sense. He had never felt this protective or curious about Muggles, but something about them, about Sherlock was different, and it made him want to please him and get to know him more. Voldemort sighed tiredly, and finally slipped off to sleep. A confused frown marring his face.**_

**Changing The Dark**

**Chapter 2**

Despite his promise to see Sherlock again that week, Voldemort never went back. He wouldn't, couldn't, put his plans on hold for some man he just met. _You don't need anyone, never have, and you don't need him either. _Voldemort told himself this everyday.

Yet it was three weeks later, and Voldemort still couldn't get Sherlock out of his head. His voice, the way he talked, how he oozed confidence and intelligence. Voldemort pressed a hand to his aching forehead with a deep sigh. He couldn't go on without seeing him at least one last time.

_Just once. _He promised himself. _At least tell Sherlock goodbye, then you'll feel better and can move on with your life. _Voldemort stood from his desk, gathered up his cloak, and wand, putting a glamor on himself, making him look like he was thirty again. He now had brown wavy hair, and deep piercing brown eyes. Satisfied with his look, Voldemort apparated outside of the flat.

He hardly knew whether or not they had someone else in the flat and he didn't feel quite up to putting on a show today. The plate with 221b shown brightly as he gazed at it for what seemed like hours. Taking a deep breath, Voldemort rapped sharply on the door. There was scuffling on the other side before the door opened to reveal an old woman.

"Oh, hello dear, come in, come in." She ushered Voldemort inside hurriedly, and closed the door behind him. "You must be here to see Sherlock then?" She asked. Voldemort nodded, and she beamed at him. "Go right on up then, he and John should be there."

Voldemort nodded his thanks, shaking his head slightly as he made his way upstairs. Was this whole street weird or what? Inviting strangers into their homes. What if he was a murderer or something...? oh...right. He was.

Voldemort came to a door at the top of the stairs, and knocked loudly. Not a second later John opened the door with a smile and stepped aside to let Voldemort in. He strode in confidently, that is until he saw Sherlock sprawled out on the couch with his hands stapled under his chin. Voldemort felt his breath hitch and that tightness in his chest rise steadily. Snapping himself out of his trance, Voldemort sat on one of the chairs not far away from the couch.

"Sherlock! We have a guest." John said irritably. Voldemort looked from John to Sherlock curiously. It was obvious that the two of them had been arguing before he had arrived. Sherlock looked at Voldemort with calculating eyes, making him surprisingly uncomfortable. Voldemort frowned, unsure of what it was, but dismissed the feeling until later.

"What can we do for you, sir?" John asked when Sherlock didn't offer a greeting. Voldemort shifted his eyes to John thoughtfully. _I could show myself, _he thought, _or I can see how this plays out. _Voldemort wasn't fond of beating around the bush though and so he didn't have to think over his options long.

"I'm here because I was asked to return by Sherlock." He decided to make his reason as vague as possible just so he could test how Sherlock's mind worked.

Sherlock frowned for a moment, before he suddenly grew even more distant and cold. "Ah, but you see, you can't be him because I specifically asked him to come back three weeks ago. He wouldn't have waited this long I'm sure." He said sarcastically. Voldemort almost flinched at the glare Sherlock was sending his way, but took off his glamor anyways.

"I am. I have no explanation I can offer, but know that I regret not coming here again until now." Voldemort said sincerely.

Sherlock scoffed lightly and turned his back to Voldemort, curling up on the couch. "Leave here. Now."

"Sherlock! He said he was sorry so stop being a prat and grow up!" John shouted from the seat he had taken not far off from them, not taking his eyes off the newspaper he was reading.

"No it's quite alright, I should leave anyways. I came here to say goodbye, and I won't come back. I've work to do." Voldemort stood up, no longer looking in Sherlock's direction. He knew if he did his resolve would crumble.

John looked up from his paper with a frown. "You're leaving. Just like that? After apologizing and everything? We don't even know your name." He looked at Voldemort incredulously.

"Let him go. He obviously has better things to be doing besides associating with common folk. What was the word you used before, oh right, _Muggles_." Sherlock spat the word like a curse, making Voldemort grimace. "I'm sure you've got plenty of those to kill. Tell me, why haven't you killed John and I?" He asked coldly, turning around to glare at him.

Voldemort opened and closed his mouth a few times, speechless. "Because believe it or not Sherlock Holmes, I'm not as bad as people say I am. I have feelings, most of which I don't understand, being raised in an orphanage your whole life will do that to you..." Voldemort stopped short in his rant.

He hadn't meant to mention the orphanage, but in the heat of the moment it had slipped out. Now that he had started though he couldn't stop. "You want to know why I kill Muggles to begin with? I didn't have a nice childhood. I was beaten, abused, and misjudged because I'm different. I wasn't given a chance, they called in a priest to exercise me, claiming that I was a spawn of Satan. All my life, all I've ever gotten from Muggles was pain. So I decided enough was enough and vowed to kill every last one of them, but you. You're different and I don't know why." Voldemort ended his tirade breathlessly. He refused to meet either of their gazes.

"And what happens when you figure it out?" John asked.

Voldemort shrugged. "I don't know." He looked around him, trying not to fidget with his hands. "I should go." He was about to disaparate when Sherlock stopped him.

"Wait. I still want to examine your magic further. Stay here for three nights then you can leave and never come back if that's what you wish." Sherlock called out.

Voldemort stared at him for many moments before nodding silently. His followers were all busy with raids anyways, he had time. Sitting back down stiffly, he let Sherlock take his wand in his hands to look over.

XXX


	3. Chapter 3

**C****antil: Hey guys. Sorry this is a little later than I wanted it to be, but I finally got it done. Let me know what you think. **

**Summary:** **Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?**

**Recap Of Chapter 2: ****_**Voldemort shrugged. "I don't know." He looked around him, trying not to fidget with his hands. "I should go." He was about to disaparate when Sherlock stopped him. **_**

"_**Wait. I still want to examine your magic further. Stay here for three nights then you can leave and never come back if that's what you wish." Sherlock called out. **_

_**Voldemort stared at him for many moments before nodding silently. His followers were all busy with raids anyways, he had time. Sitting back down stiffly, he let Sherlock take his wand in his hands to look over. **_

****Changing The Dark****

****Chapter 3****

John looked up, folding his news paper quietly. "And where do you expect him to sleep Sherlock?" He asked incredulously. Sherlock didn't look away from the wand in his hand.

"I don't need my room at the moment since I hardly sleep much." Sherlock glanced at Voldemort curiously. "I'm sure you can clean the room easily enough...?" He questioned, obviously not sure of Voldemorts name.

"Yes I can, and you can call me Voldemort." Voldemort said easily. John nodded thoughtfully, while Sherlock tried to figure out Voldemort's real name in his head, but eventually stored the name away for examination later.

"You were born with these powers I presume?" Sherlock said, getting back to the task at hand. Voldemort looked suspicious at first before inclining his head slowly.

"Yes." He answered briskly. Sherlock suddenly looked back and fourth between the door and Voldemort. Voldemort understood and quickly put his glamor back up just in time for the door to burst open.

"Sherlock, I've got a case for you." The man was obviously a police officer by the state of his clothes. They were old and tattered from overuse, his silver hair and brown eyes shining in the light of the room. His badge read G. Lestrade. Lestrade looked to Voldemort curiously, but didn't comment on his pressence.

"What is it Lestrade, can't you see I'm busy?" Sherlock gestured to Voldemort with his free hand.

Lestrade glanced between all of them briefly, then threw down a folder on the coffee table. "Yes, well luckily this can be handled from here. Just take a look at the case, call me and let me know what you find." And with that Lestrade was gone, leaving the room in a tense silence.

"At least he didn't ask questions." John muttered under his breath, and Voldemort agreed with him.

Sherlock handed Voldemort his wand back, who took it gently. Their hands briefly touched, sending shivers up Voldemort's spine, and making Voldemort pull away as if he were burned.

Voldemort cleared his throat uselessly and looked away from Sherlock's piercing gaze. "Would you like to see me perform magic then?" He asked, trying to draw attention towards something else. Sherlock nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course."

Voldemort pointed his wand at Johns chair, but before he could utter a single word Sherlock sprung up from the couch, took Voldemort's hand, pulled him up from his chair and out the door. John following them outside with a frown.

****XXX****

****Cantil: I know its short, and I'm sorry. Just have some writers block at the moment. Let me know maybe what could happen next and where I should take this story. It might help me. ****


	4. Update

**I****MPORTANT**

**NOTICE**

**Hello all, I was supposed to update today, but I've been having trouble coming up with inspiration/incentive to write the next chapter. (Sigh)The joys of writers block, and general life problems. I wanted to let everyone know that I will try my best to update this, but know that if I can't then instead of just discontinuing this story I'll put it up for adoption as long as the person I give it to follows the plot loosely. I know I've probably disappointed a lot of people that like my story, but once ****again I'm so sorry, and I'm trying my best. That's all for now. **

**Sincerely, **

**Cantil**


	5. Chapter 5

**C****antil: I just wanted to take a minute to thank JustlikeWater for helping me find inspiration and giving me suggestions on the story. You are amazing! I haven't given up on the story yet and you are the reason, so thank you. **

**Summary: ****Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?**

**Recap Of Chapter 3: **_**Voldemort cleared his throat uselessly and looked away from Sherlock's piercing gaze. "Would you like to see me perform magic then?" He asked, trying to draw attention towards something else. Sherlock nodded enthusiastically.**_

_**"Of course."**_

_**Voldemort pointed his wand at Johns chair, but before he could utter a single word Sherlock sprung up from the couch, took Voldemort's hand, pulled him up from his chair and out the door. John following them outside with a frown.**_

**Changing The Dark**

**Chapter 4**

Once outside, Sherlock hailed a taxi, ushered Voldemort inside, and turned to John. "You're not coming?" He asked, though it wasn't really a question.

"No, I have a date tonight." John replied easily, waving both of them off with a smirk. John kind of felt bad about using his date as a reason to match make his best friend, but shrugged it off. Sherlock looked at John suspiciously, but said nothing as he got into the taxi with Voldemort, John watching as the taxi sped off.

Meanwhile in the taxi was a tense silence. Voldemort fidgeted with his wand uselessly, glancing at Sherlock curiously, who was texting textingon his phone. "Where are we going?" He asked.

Sherlock didn't look away from his phone as he answered, "We have a crime scene to go to."

Voldemort blinked at him incredulously. "A crime scene." He repeated.

Sherlock sighed, and gave Voldemort a look that made him feel like an idiot. "Yes, a crime scene, do keep up. You're almost as bad as John." Voldemort's eyes narrowed at the last comment, but decided to remain quiet as the taxi came to a stop outside a blue two story house.

Sherlock jumped out of the taxi and practically ran inside the house, Voldemort following not far behind. They came into a living room that had blood everywhere and the body of a woman lying in the middle of the room. Sherlock walked up to the woman to get a closer look.

Voldemort saw Lestrade walk in soon after, and looked at him curiously. "Who is this Sherlock?" Lestrade asked with a sigh.

"He's with me." Was the only explanation Sherlock gave. Lestrade made a face at his back, but didn't comment on Voldemort's presence further, instead getting back on track. "Right then, what have you got for me?"

Sherlock straightened up, boredom oozing off of him, but Voldemort could tell he was excited about the case. "Woman age 30, happily married for 10 years, non-smoker, Irish, wished to have a baby, but husband didn't want one. Found out she was pregnant, told husband, husband grew scared of the prospect which started a fight. Fight intensified when wife brought up the fact he was cheating on her with the school teacher, he pushed her down the stairs. She fell and snapped her neck. Husband grew worried that he would go to jail, so he dragged her to the living room, cleaned up the blood poorly and fled out the back door." Sherlock finished his tirade with a smug smile.

Voldemort stared, his mouth almost hanging open in shock. He didn't know why, but seeing Sherlock give his deductions did things to Voldemort's body that he'd rather not mention. "That was..." Voldemort swallowed heavily. "Interesting." He finished lamely, but Sherlock smiled slightly in his direction.

"If that's all you needed Lestrade, then we'll be leaving." Sherlock walked out the front door, Voldemort following like a little puppy. Lestrade watched them leave with a frown. He didn't know who the other man was, but he had a feeling he would be seeing more of him soon.

Sherlock and Voldemort returned to the flat in a comfortable silence. "Come, Voldemort, while John is out we can explore your magic a little more. I'm sure John will be spending the night with his date, if his anxiousness was anything to go by." Sherlock said, leading the way into the flat, and motioning for Voldemort to sit at the kitchen table where all his equipment for experiments were.

Voldemort sat down with a smile. He was growing fond of Sherlock, but he couldn't find it in himself to be angry about it. _This should be an interesting night._ He thought in amusement.

**-To Be Continued-**


	6. Chapter 6

**Cantil: Hello all! This chapter is probably another short one until I feel better from the cold I recently developed, but I finally have time to upload it. **

**Summary: **Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?****

**Recap Of Chapter ****4****:** **S****herlock and Voldemort returned to the flat in a comfortable silence. "Come, Voldemort, while John is out we can explore your magic a little more. I'm sure John will be spending the night with his date, if his anxiousness was anything to go by." Sherlock said, leading the way into the flat, and motioning for Voldemort to sit at the kitchen table where all his equipment for experiments were. **

**Voldemort sat down with a smile. He was growing fond of Sherlock, but he couldn't find it in himself to be angry about it. _This should be an interesting night._ He thought in amusement. **

**Changing The Dark**

**Chapter 5**

**Part One Of Magic Study **

"So what, exactly, are we doing?" Voldemort questioned, the speciousness he felt leaked into his voice despite his effort to hide it. Sherlock flipped through a notebook until he found a blank page. He didn't normally need one what with his mind palace, but this was a special case. He would be studying Voldemort's magic and he didn't want to miss a thing.

"_We _aren't doing anything. You're going to perform some spells while I observe and write notes, then I'll conduct research on my findings." Sherlock explained calmly, Voldemort shooting him an irritated look.

"Of course." Voldemort gestured vaguely around the room. "Well, what would you like to see? Perhaps a disappearing act? Oh, I know! I'll go get a puppy and kill it in front of you, how's that sound?" He stood up from his chair, looking out the window with his arms crossed. He honestly didn't know why he was so upset, just that he was.

Sherlock opened and closed his mouth a few times, a frown marring his beautiful features, before he cleared his throat. "Yes, well, perhaps we'll stick with whatever you've got to show me that doesn't involve killing?"

Voldemort nodded stiffly, and took up his wand from the table. He fingered the familiar wood in a tense silence, until he noticed Sherlock staring at him expectantly. "You would like to know the spell as I cast, correct?" Sherlock inclined his head slightly. Voldemort looked around the room until his red gaze settled on the mirror across from him."Alright. Reducto!" A blue light shot out from the tip of his wand and shattered the mirror into a big mess on the floor.

He didn't need his wand for this, but figured Sherlock would like to see the wand movement for it. When Voldemort looked back at Sherlock he was shocked to see the open expression on his face. Sherlock's face was flushed, his fingers twitching from the excitement, wonder, and he had a glint in his eyes that Voldemort had never witnessed before. Voldemort quickly looked away, unable to hide the proud smile on his face.

The spells continued from there, getting progressively more intense as they moved on. They would've continued, but Sherlock mentioned wanting to see the unforgivable curses, and that's where Voldemort drew the line. He wouldn't perform the spells on Sherlock, and he doubted Sherlock would let him bring in someone else or an animal to perform them. "I think that's enough for today." He announced. Sherlock looked disappointed, and Voldemort had to physically stop himself from giving in to that pout, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

"Same time tomorrow. You can sleep in my room." Sherlock said expressionlessly, standing up, and grabbing his coat off the back of his leather chair. Voldemort started in surprise.

"Wait...Where are you going?" He asked carefully. Voldemort only barely managed to hide his flinch when Sherlock glared at him.

"Out." Was the only answer Voldemort got before the flat was empty, leaving Voldemort to his own loneliness. _What did I do?_ He asked himself. He understood that Sherlock was disappointed in him when he wouldn't perform the unforgivable s, but what else was he supposed to do? _Wait..What if he's upset, not because I wouldn't perform the magic, but because I refused to do it in front of him even though I perform the spells daily at home? I don't want him to see that side of me, but if I can make this better than I will. _

With that in mind Voldemort settled down firmly on the couch, willing to wait all night for Sherlock to come back if he had to.

**To Be Continued **


	7. Chapter 7

**Cantil: I'm so sorry for putting this update off. I have no excuse, but I hope you all will forgive me for it being late and short. Last chapter that will be this short I promise. **

**Summary: **Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?** **

**Recap Of Last Chapter:** "Same time tomorrow. You can sleep in my room." Sherlock said expressionlessly, standing up, and grabbing his coat off the back of his leather chair. Voldemort started in surprise.

"Wait...Where are you going?" He asked carefully. Voldemort only barely managed to hide his flinch when Sherlock glared at him.

"Out." Was the only answer Voldemort got before the flat was empty, leaving Voldemort to his own loneliness. _What did I do?_ He asked himself. He understood that Sherlock was disappointed in him when he wouldn't perform the unforgivable s, but what else was he supposed to do? _Wait..What if he's upset, not because I wouldn't perform the magic, but because I refused to do it in front of him even though I perform the spells daily at home? I don't want him to see that side of me, but if I can make this better than I will. _

With that in mind Voldemort settled down firmly on the couch, willing to wait all night for Sherlock to come back if he had to.

**Changing The Dark **

**Part Two Of Magic Study**

He must have fallen asleep because the next time Voldemort opened his eyes it was morning outside, and there was clanking sounds in the kitchen. He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, stood up and made his way into the kitchen. Thinking it was Sherlock, Voldemort immediately began his apology.

"Sherlock I'm sorry about last night-" Voldemort cut himself off, and stared in shock at John. "Where's Sherlock?" He asked worriedly. _Did he not come home? Was it my fault? What if he's hurt? Calm down, there's no reason to panic, I'm sure he's just fine. _

John continued packing a lunch for two, shrugging his shoulders much to Voldemort's annoyance. "Don't know." John suddenly looked at Voldemort accusingly, making him flinch subtly. "What happened last night?"

Voldemort sighed, slumping down into a chair at the table. "I don't know. Everything was going fine until Sherlock asked, no demanded I show him the unforgivable curses I know." He explained carefully.

John sat across from him, nodding slightly. "And after that?"

Voldemort looked away for a moment, lost in the memories of the night before. He had tried all night to come up with a reason why he had turned it down. He always casts the spells any other time, so what was so different when Sherlock asked? "I refused him, saying we were done for the day, he grew upset, but from what, I couldn't tell you. He then proceeded to leave, and that's the last I heard from him."

John gave him a pitying look, making Voldemort angry. "Sounds to me like hes upset that you refused to show him the spells that you use everyday without a thought." John paused thoughtfully. "Listen, Sherlock's the type of person that prides himself on knowledge, not emotions, so maybe he needed to cool off and think about his own feelings on the matter."

Voldemort nodded slightly. "I don't want him to see that side of me though." He added softly.

John smiled slightly. "I know. I didn't want him to know about my time in the war, but if I hadn't shared that part of myself with him, we wouldn't be as close as we are now."

"What do I do then? How do I fix this?" Voldemort asked, desperately trying to hide his desperateness.

"You need to have the courage to show him that side of you because if you don't he'll never let you in. He probably feels as if you don't want to show him that side of you because you don't trust or like him, so he left, not knowing how to handle emotions well." With that John stood up, grabbed his lunch and with a pat to Voldemort's shoulder, left the flat.

Voldemort went through the rest of the day in a haze. He desperately wanted Sherlock to forgive him, but he didn't know if the man would like the other side of him. He sighed as he heard the door to the flat open and in walked Sherlock with his head held high._ Well, time to find out._

**To Be Continued**


	8. Chapter 8

**Cantil: I had promised a longer chapter however, life it seems had different plans. I'm lucky I had enough time to upload this much. Work plus depression equals horrible days. **

**Summary: **Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?** **

**Recap Of Last Chapter:** "You need to have the courage to show him that side of you because if you don't he'll never let you in. He probably feels as if you don't want to show him that side of you because you don't trust or like him, so he left, not knowing how to handle emotions well." With that John stood up, grabbed his lunch and with a pat to Voldemort's shoulder, left the flat.

Voldemort went through the rest of the day in a haze. He desperately wanted Sherlock to forgive him, but he didn't know if the man would like the other side of him. He sighed as he heard the door to the flat open and in walked Sherlock with his head held high._ Well, time to find out._

**Changing The Dark**

**Chapter 8**

Voldemort stood up warily. He had hoped he would have more time before Sherlock came home, but he supposed he would just have to improvise. "Can I show you something?" He asked carefully.

Sherlock stared at him for a few moments before nodding wordlessly. Voldemort gently took Sherlocks hand, the warmth of it sending shivers up his spine. The two disapparated to Voldemort's mansion, Voldemort not pausing to give Sherlock time to recover, led him down a hall and into a training room.

Voldemort released Sherlocks hand and turned to face Sherlock. "I wanted to apologize for last night." He began sincerely.

Sherlock huffed lightly. "There's no need for you to-"

"There is." Voldemort took a deep breath and gestured around them. There were dummies lined up along one wall with targets on them, a stray Death Eater that Voldemort hadn't noticed until now was sending frankly pathetic spells at it.

"You!" He snapped at the man. The man turned, and Voldemort recognized him as one of the men that had first brought Sherlock to him.

"My lord." He bowed respectfully. Voldemort glared, took out his wand and aimed at his chest. This is where he hesitated. _Why is this so hard? I've never had trouble with this before. Come on, man up. Sherlock has to know that you care about him, and if that means killing this man then he would do it. _

Voldemort pursed his lips, his hand tightening around the wand. He sent Sherlock one last calculating glance. "Crucio!" He spoke clearly and confidently, though he felt the complete opposite. The man dropped to the floor and screamed loudly as he writhed in pain.

Just as soon as the spell started, it ended. Voldemort couldn't look at Sherlock, not if he wanted to continue. He didn't understand it. He used to put no thought in his spells, yet this man had changed him so completely. So much so, that Voldemort was actually dreading his reaction.

"Imperio!" There wasn't much to that spell. Voldemort didn't much care for it. Yes you could control people with it, but you could do the same with a simple Crucio. Anyone under that spell from him always gave in and did what he asked. Voldemort made the man move around some before he moved on.

Voldemort's hand began to shake slightly. Would Sherlock hate him if he performed the last spell that was so close to coming from his lips? Would he send Voldemort away? "Avada Kedavra!" A jet green light erupted from his wand, hitting the man in the chest before he could even figure out what was going on.

He took deep breaths in order to calm himself. He knew he had to face Sherlock, he had no choice. Voldemort couldn't run away from his problems, no matter how much he wanted to. "What were they?" Sherlock asked carefully, but at least there wasn't any hate in his voice.

"The Unforgivables. The first was the torture curse, the second control of movement, and the third was the killing curse. These are spells I use on a daily bases. I was reluctant to show that side of me because you're the first person that is...interesting enough, and I didn't want to run you off." He explained.

Sherlock looked thoughtfully at the dead man not far off from him. Finally, after what seemed like hours Sherlock gave Voldemort a nod, lips curled up only slightly. "The magic behind it is quite interesting."

Voldemort blinked, a surprised laugh escaping him. "I should of known you would think that." He glanced around them, "We should get back to the flat, after all, more research to do there. I'll bring a few books for you to read as well." He grabbed Sherlocks hand, delighting in the fact he didn't pull away after what Voldemort had shown him.

Later that night, Voldemort fell asleep with a small smile on his face.

**To Be Continued **


	9. Chapter 9

**Cantil: Hey guys, sorry this is so late. Life hasn't been too kind to me lately, and I've been dealing with a pet snake that has a respiratory infection. Not fun. Anyways, I also wanted to thank everyone for liking/following and sticking with this story, seriously you guys are amazing. **

**Recap Of Last Chapter:** _**Sherlock looked thoughtfully at the dead man not far off from him. Finally, after what seemed like hours Sherlock gave Voldemort a nod, lips curled up only slightly. "The magic behind it is quite interesting." **_

_**Voldemort blinked, a surprised laugh escaping him. "I should of known you would think that." He glanced around them, "We should get back to the flat, after all, more research to do there. I'll bring a few books for you to read as well." He grabbed Sherlocks hand, delighting in the fact he didn't pull away after what Voldemort had shown him. **_

_**Later that night, Voldemort fell asleep with a small smile on his face. **_

**Changing The Dark **

**Chapter 8**

Voldemort had shown Sherlock a whole new world with magic, spending all of the next day doing spells and genuinely having a good time in each others presence. Voldemort was enjoying his time so much that he never wanted it to end, but he also knew he couldn't pretend any longer. He had to go back. His death eaters should be coming back to report their raids and Voldemort couldn't miss it.

He wouldn't give up his plans, he couldn't, not after so many years of preparation and dedication to his cause. He sighed softly, staring at Sherlock made him want to drop everything just to be with him. He shook his head vigorously. What was happening to him? What was he feeling? Why was he feeling?

This wasn't supposed to happen, he had gotten rid of these pesky feelings years ago when he made his Horcruxes, or he thought he had. Voldemort straightened up to his full height, about ready to leave all this useless mush behind, when Sherlock interrupted his train of thought.

"That can't be all the spells." He said flatly. Voldemort stared back, faking confusion.

"Of course it is." Voldemort argued, avoiding Sherlock's intense scrutiny.

Sherlock shook his head and held up the book Voldemort had conjured from his personal library, his long delicate fingers pointed at a spell on the page. The spell, Voldemort noted, was one he knew well. The Patronus spell. His teachers had tried to teach it to him when he was at Hogwarts, but he had never been able to conjure one.

Voldemort's lips thinned into a small line, his fists clenching around his wand slightly. If Sherlock noticed this, he didn't comment.

"Going by how still you've become I'm assuming you've never actually succeeded in casting the spell." Sherlock said, staring him down, making Voldemort have to look away after a few moments.

"No I haven't. I've never needed to cast one. It's incredibly...Difficult for me to come up with a happy memory." Voldemort explained, teeth clenched and avoiding Sherlock's gaze. He didn't want Sherlock to know how many times he had tried the spell when he was young. It was a lot. He had wanted to learn every spell, yet that one was the only one he ever failed at casting.

"Well, no time like the present to learn then. I've read enough about it in some of the other books you brought to be of some assistance to you." Seeing Voldemort's reluctance Sherlock continued. "Just do this, this one thing and I'll let you leave."

Voldemort stared into those hopeful blue orbs for many moments, unable to look away. He sighed inwardly, knowing that he would do anything this man asks of him. Unfortunately he just couldn't seem to be able to say no to the man.

"Very well." He nodded stiffly. Sherlock's lips quirked up slightly in a small smile.

"Good, let's get started then. Come stand in the middle of the room." Sherlock demanded, moving to the center of the living room. Voldemort obediently stood where he was told, waiting for further instructions. It had been an awfully long time since he last tried this spell, and he could barely think with Sherlock so close in front of him.

Close enough to touch if he reached out, close enough to pull Sherlock in a kiss...Wait, where did that come from? Since when did Lord Voldemort even entertain the thought of kissing another human being?

Voldemort shook his head of these heinous thoughts, and came to attention. He knew what came next, yet he wasn't ready. He knows he could never conjure one anyways, so really, what's the point of even trying? Seeing Sherlock's look though, was enough. He was bent over the book, fingers flowing over the words, his eyes scanning the page quickly and efficiently.

Voldemort swallowed heavily, knowing full well that he was screwed. He would try the spell, if only to make Sherlock proud of him. Sherlock cleared his throat, looking Voldemort up and down. "Right, you said you don't have any happy memories, but surely you have at least powerful memories in general? The book doesn't explicitly say you can't use something other than happy."

Voldemort nodded, he had a few, but wasn't so positive any would work. He sighed, and took up his wand. He knew the spell like the back of his hand, if only he could conjure the damn thing. He wondered idly, what form his Patronus would take should he succeed, but quickly focused on Sherlock again.

With Sherlock's nod, Voldemort started to think of the time he made his first Horcrux. He thought of how powerful he felt at succeeding such a difficult spell, and on his first try. He spun the wand in a circular motion, trying to draw as much power into the spell. "Expecto Patronum!" He spoke loudly and clearly when he felt he had drawn enough power.

A wispy silver glow came out of his wand, starting to form a glob of something, before it disappeared altogether. Voldemort cursed at himself silently. Of course, that wouldn't be powerful enough.

Sherlock stared where the wisp for a moment, and gave Voldemort an encouraging gesture. "That was good, at least we know you have the potential to do it."

Voldemort shook his head, looking away from Sherlock. "I'm not so sure Sherlock. I couldn't conjure one when I was young, what makes you think I can do it now?" He asked incredulously.

Sherlock frowned thoughtfully, before his face smoothed into a blank mask. "Of course you can, you just need a better memory. Try it again." He demanded, expression unreadable.

Voldemort sighed warily, but tried to think of something more powerful. He thought of when he had gotten his body back in the graveyard, but that made him think of Harry Potter's escape and how angry it had made him. He thought of seeing Hogwarts for the first time, how glad he had been to be away from the orphanage, and once again cast the spell.

"Expecto Patronum!" The silver light flowed from his wand, thicker than before, but not much more. He huffed angrily. "This is ridiculous, it's not going to happen, why am I even bothering?"

Sherlock gave Voldemort an appraising look, his hands stapled beneath his chin. "What are you thinking about when you cast?" He asked.

Voldemort frowned. "The first time I thought about my first Horcrux I made, the second one I thought about seeing Hogwarts for the first time, seeing the magic of the castle." He explained.

Sherlock shook his head. "Not good enough, try again." Voldemort glared at the ground. He hated basically being called a failure, but for some reason it felt even worse coming from Sherlock. Voldemort's face grew determined, and he tried to think of anything, anything that could be of use for the spell. He refused to humiliate himself in front of Sherlock.

He started to annalise his recent feelings about Sherlock. How he felt when he met him, how much fun he had in Sherlock's presence, of his recent thought of kissing him. He thought of Sherlock as he drew circles with his wand, how he admired him, how he deduced everything, how his stomach flipped when Sherlock smiled a genuine smile for him.

"Expecto Patronum!" He said confidently, his voice loud and even. The silver light blasted out of his wand in waves, a form starting to take shape in front of him. The shape grew in size as Voldemort kept up those thoughts, over and over repeating them in his head. The silver shape morphed into a cobra.

The cobra circled Voldemort, shining it's light brightly as it nuzzled into him. Voldemort stared on in a shocked silence, unable to form words. The cobra made it's way over to Sherlock, starting to disipate into thin air as it went. Voldemort, unable to force anymore power into it to go that far. Before disappearing it greeted Sherlock with a nuzzle into his chest, it somehow knew who Voldemort had thought of.

The silver from his wand retreated until it was just him and Sherlock again. Voldemort looked up to find Sherlock staring at him in wonder, a small smile gracing his beautiful face. "I told you you could do it."

Voldemort smiled, more than a little proud of himself for finally conjuring the one spell he hadn't been able to use before. "Yeah, I guess so." He agreed.

Sherlock once again had that thoughtful look on his face. "I'm curious though, what did you think of?"

Voldemort 's eyes widened. He didn't know what this meant. He had thought of Sherlock, but what should he tell him? _No of course not, you worked too hard on your plans with your Death Eaters. It was just a spell, that's all. Who cares what you thought about if it worked? Sherlock only led you in the right direction, nothing more. _He reminded himself. So why did he feel a pull towards Sherlock even now? Why were these thoughts so powerful where the others were not? Voldemort shook his head.

"I thought of finally finishing off my plans I had before I met you." He lied easily, only feeling slightly guilty for it. Sherlock nodded, easily accepting the words as truth, though he looked a little doubtful.

"Well, I should get going." Voldemort announced somewhat awkwardly.

Sherlock's face closed off instantly, making Voldemort almost wince at how emotionless he had sounded. He instantly regretted his words when Sherlock closed the books he left opened, setting them on the table.

"Very well, I did say this was the last thing after all. John should be along soon anyways. I wouldn't want to get in the way of your plans." Sherlock threw himself down on the couch, hands stapling beneath his chin, staring at the ceiling blankly.

Voldemort was torn. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. His Death Eaters were waiting for him to come back, but the more time he spent with Sherlock, the more he wanted to drop everything, forget his plans and stay here at 221b. "I didn't mean it like that Sherlock, I just meant that my followers are expecting me so they can report back." He explained cautiously.

Sherlock waved a hand at him, dismissing him without looking his way. Voldemort stared at him sadly. He felt like he was leaving something very important behind if he left Sherlock, but he had too. He couldn't afford weakness and that's all Sherlock was. Weakness. "Goodbye Sherlock, I don't know if I'll see you again." With that Voldemort collected his books and disapparated in a puff of black smoke, not noticing the blue orbs that watched him sadly.

**-To Be Continued-**


	10. Chapter 10

**Changing The Dark**

_**Cantil: I know, I know. It's been a long time! Too long. I apologize for the long wait however, I have finally gotten over my writer's block. I think I just needed a long break to find the inspiration to write again. This is mostly a filler chapter until I get back into the swing of things. **_

**Chapter 10 **

Voldemort sighed for the hundredth time, his head resting in the palm of his hand. He was slouched on his throne as his followers droned on and on about reports. Voldemort couldn't care less about it at the moment.

He couldn't stop thinking about sherlock since he left him more than two weeks ago. He didn't understand it, why was Sherlock so important to him? Why couldn't he just go back to the way it was before all this crap happened?

But the thought of never getting the chance to meet Sherlock, never to share his magic with him, made Voldemort's heart ache painfully. Voldemort discreetly rubbed at his chest where his heart lay. What the hell was wrong with him?

Voldemort finally decided to dismiss his followers as he was hardly paying any attention to them anyways. When the room was emptied, Voldemort stood and started to pace the room, his mind in thousands of directions. Well, that's not true. His mind was only in one place, along with what was left of his heart. With Sherlock Holmes.

He still couldn't really understand it much himself, but he did know that he was fond of Sherlock. Voldemort sighed tiredly, running a wary hand over his face. Maybe, just maybe, he could see Sherlock again? Just one last time?

He didn't leave Sherlock the way he had wanted too. He was too caught up in his plans to take over the Ministry, plans he didn't even know if he wanted to pursue anymore. What happens if he succeeds? He'll be in control yes, but he'll still be alone, and Sherlock...Sherlock wouldn't be with him. His followers wouldn't allow it. Their leader, with a Muggle. It couldn't happen. None of it.

This is the thought that made Voldemort pause. Was it really worth it to rule a world with no one by his side, no one to share it with? Could he even fathom it? Maybe once, before Sherlock. Before everything he could have been content just ruling the world, but now? Now all he wanted was to be with Sherlock, in any capacity. As long as Voldemort was in his presence, Voldemort would be happy.

And why couldn't Voldemort finally be happy. All his life everyone took everything he ever cared for and smashed it mercilessly, and now that he could finally, maybe have found happiness in Sherlock, he wanted to throw it all away? And for what? A dream of a ten year old bitter boy, who was mad at the world and everything in it?

Did Voldemort hate Muggles? Not really. He wasn't fond of them, but he didn't hate them like he used too. He couldn't, for hating them meant hating Sherlock, and Voldemort refused to do that. Not to Sherlock, never to him. Voldemort's face grew a determined look.

How would he go about this? Would he disband his Death Eaters? Well he'd have to wouldn't he? There was no way he could let them get away. What if they found out about Sherlock? No. Voldemort wouldn't risk it. He could always just stop contacting them, get rid of the dark mark and let them live out their lives.

It could work, but just in case Voldemort would place protective spells on Sherlock just as a precaution. One could never be too careful when it came to Voldemort's followers. He couldn't trust them not to try something, especially Bellatrix.

Then came the thought on his Horcruxes. How would he handle that? Get rid of them? Take them back into himself? Could he even do that? Voldemort wasn't so sure of this, but he felt he needed to try. Even if it all went to hell, at least he could be happy for once, even for just a moment. Decision made, Voldemort headed off to the library. There was much research to be done after all.

XXX

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Voldemort had tore the whole damn place apart for hours searching for anything on absorbing a Horcrux, but he couldn't find a damn thing. He had found a spell to get rid of the Dark Mark, but that was it. Voldemort ran a hand through his dark curls.

He had taken to this form to feel slightly better about his situation, but there was no way he could deny it now. He had missed this form. His young thirty year old self made him feel better, but if only he could find a way to stay like this. Maybe...no.

**He** wouldn't know anything on it. _Yes, but you could have him help you, not to mention it would give you a chance to see him again. _Voldemort stared out his manor window at the setting sun. the library was quiet as he contemplated his options.

Either sit here in self pity, or go to someone who was smart enough to lend a hand to help him. But what if he sends me away without a second thought? _Oh, you mean like you did too him? _Mind made up, Voldemort packed up his entire collection of books including Salazars work, put them all into a suitcase, shrunk it and put it in his pocket.

He then disapparated to 221b. To Sherlock.

Arriving on the doorstep, Voldemort knocked, wringing his hands unconsciously. He was insanely nervous. Would Sherlock help him? The door opened to reveal . She beamed upon seeing him and stepped aside to let him in.

"Go right up dear, I'm sure Sherlock would be delighted to see you. It's been awhile since he last saw you." With that she left, retreating back into her flat, muttering to herself.

Voldemort stared up the stairs with a look of foreboding. He made his way upstairs cautiously. Once at the door he knocked cautiously. There was movement on the other side before the door flung open to reveal John. John stared at him, a surprised frown marring his face.

John looked around the hall before greeting Voldemort. "Voldemort. What're you doing here?" He asked, stepping aside to let him in. Voldemort stared around the flat, looking for Sherlock. Upon not finding him, he turned back to John.

"Is Sherlock in?" He questioned as casually as he could muster. Johns frown only deepened at this question.

"No, he went to Bart's Hospital for an experiment early this morning." He explained, giving Voldemort a curious look. Voldemort nodded, deflating slightly.

"Can I wait here for him?" He asked instead.

"Well that depends on how long you're willing to wait. He's been going to Barts for a few weeks now and doesn't get back until late at night." John said as he walked back over to the dining room table where his laptop lay.

Voldemort thought on it for a moment before nodding to himself. He plopped down on the sofa with a sigh. _Well, _he thought. _I'm already here, I'm sure a few more hours won't hurt. _With that Voldemort settled in once again to wait for Sherlock. To make things right.

**-To Be Continued-**


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